Topic: the Broken Star Saloon

Here we go folks, a clipping of a newspaper article....

Tragic death.

Ambitious young couple, Tracey and Stacy Kelly had recently purchased the old abandoned building some might remember as the former Cowboy Star, a country and western bar. They had hoped to reopen the bar under the name Broken Star Saloon. Unfortunately, tragedy struck. Tracey Eugene Kelly was found Sunday morning by his wife Stacy. Authorities are not releasing many details, other than that it appears to be an apparent suicide.

“I tried to tell them folks, back when they came asking me to work the job,” Mike Zimmerman of Zimmers Construction said, “That place has got the bad ju-ju.”

All construction and renovations had stalled due to the investigation.

Re: the Broken Star Saloon

"I think I've got something," a bundle of blankets in the backseat piped up. "Possible haunting, north side of Kentucky. One casualty already."

"That's a good eight hour drive away at the very least, darling," David replied. They'd already been on the road several hours this morning, and his leg was starting to cramp. "You sure it's an actual haunting?"

"All the signs are there." Kara's head poked up out of the blankets; heedless of the tousled mess her hair was in, she shoved her phone up near David's face, the browser open to a news site. "Former upscale restaurant, looks like it closed down under-" Here her voice took on a mock deep tone. "-mysterious circumstances. Apparently after some new peeps tried to reopen it, but one of them randomly committed suicide last night."

Keeping one eye on the road, David glanced over the tiny screen. "Tracey and Stacy Kelly, husband dead. Wait, the foreman actually used the word 'ju-ju'?"

"I know, right!" The girl beamed. "That's got to mean something, right?"

David huffed in slight annoyance. Truth be told, it sounded like just another suicide due to financial failure, but they didn't have anything else to go on. Besides, maybe there really was a ghost. "Fine. Let me know when to switch highways, and see if there's a gas station anywhere nearby. We'll need a full tank."

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Re: the Broken Star Saloon

"Get the @*&" out!" Quinn shouted at the screen of his tablet. The automated news alert flashed steadily. Raising an eyebrow he clicked the link. The nws clipcame up on the screen. He quickly perused the story and picked up his phone.

"Hey professor! ... It's Quin.... you know Quinn... Butterfield. No! No please don't hang up! I got a quick question for you, it'll just take a second.

Thanks. Back in parapsychology 215, you used a case study about some lame cowboy linedancing place somewhere in Kentucky, the Swollen Saddle, or something?... sure... yeah ... Cowboy Star sounds right too. Well, i just got a ping from my newsfeed. Some guy just offed himself in a place that sounded a lot like that.

Uh huh... yeah... slaughterhouse.... dead girl... that's the one. Now what do you think are the chances of that place actually being haunted for real? No like real ghosts.... uh huh... for my show. Don"t hang up! Serious, I'm gonna drive down there and shoot an episode. Can you send me your class notes on the place? .. Well yeah.... I am a professional now... facts, just facts.... and any local stories you might have picked up, they sound good as background.

Thanks Professor! You are a lifesaver. [email protected] I totally owe you! .... uh yeah... No mention of your name. Got it. Thank you sir! ... hello?"

The line went dead. Quinn knew it was the spirits telling him to keep away. Screw them. This was gonna be the big episode that brought him to Primetime... or at least secured distribution in Taiwan. Quinn grabbed his camera bag, a bag of cheetos and the keys to the Chevette. Glory awaits.
-Quinn Butterfield

Re: the Broken Star Saloon

Dolvomar was reading a newspaper by an open fire at a hotel in Kentucky. He was currently on a business trip and by a business trip, he was here to make a deal with one of the locals. Somebody had buried a box in the middle of some crossroads in the countryside and he was the one that was tasked to collect. Now at the hotel, Dolvomar cut an end off and lit up a cigar before lighting it and carried on reading his paper.

"This world is so boring..." Dolvomar muttered under his breath before smoking the cigar, he left the smoke in his mouth a few seconds to taste the flavour and then let it out as a smoke ring.

"E-Excuse me, sir. You are not allowed to smoke in here." A timid voice called out from beside him.

"Hmm?" Dolvomar looked at the person who called him, he smiled as soon as he saw the young hostess.

"Go away, I'm busy." He replied before going back to his paper. An article caught his attention. "Hmm, some guy committed suicide at a bar. Looks like a new friend has joined us down below then." He muttered under his breath so nobody could hear him.

Just as he turned the page of the newspaper, a male walked into the hotel, he was wearing a denim jacket and a cowboy hat and had a grey moustache. Dolvomar took out a photograph from his inside jacket pocket. "That's the guy." He said as he folded the paper and placed it on the table.

"S-sir... Please put out your cigar." The timid voice called out again, it was very quiet and not many people in the hotel could hear her.

Dolvomar stood up from his seat and made his way over to his target, as he passed the hostess he flicked her on the forehead with his middle finger. "Be quiet." The girl put both hands to her forehead and walked off to get a manager, tears formed in her eyes.

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Re: the Broken Star Saloon

"Wake up, midget," David said, the tires of the SUV crunching as they pulled into a parking lot. "Welcome to Broken Falls, Kentucky, home of Absolutely Nothing Interesting." The motel's neon sign was flickering with intense inconsistency, bordering on strobe lighting occasionally. David pulled into one of a plethora of empty parking spots, parking in front of Suite 12A. "Wait here," he said as Kara pushed the side door open, practically spilling onto the pavement. "I'll get us checked in."
Ten minutes and an excessive amount of suspicious looks from the clerk later, "James Smith and daughter Eleanor Smith" were checked in. As he walked back to the vehicle, David reflected sourly on how much easier this would be if he didn't look like he was barely old enough to vote, and - not for the first time - considered growing a beard. Upon arrival back at the car, he was unsurprised to see that Kara had already gotten into the room and hauled the luggage inside. Leaning against the car hood, he dug his cigarettes out and lit up, gazing intently at the small town sprawled out before them. Welcome to the Heartland.

Inside, Kara had already claimed the bed nearest the door, spreading a confusing mass of electronic devices and cables across the worn and faded bedspread. Silently cursing the motel's cheap internet, she started pulling up everything she could find, skimming past a number of headlines.

"Cowboy Star Claims Title Of 'Best Steak In The County'"

"Economy In Crisis - Stock Crash Claims Local Businesses"

"'Cowboy Star' Owner Found Dead"

She clicked on the last link, bringing up a rather sad tale. Black Monday had hit this town hard, and the Cowboy Star Restaurant had gone into foreclosure. Worse, once the bank brought some lawyers in to take care of the paperwork, they learned the owner, Craig Mornn, had been skimming the books to pay for a gambling habit. The last straw had been when Mornn's wife left him upon finding out about the gambling; leaving behind a journal entry that claimed "if I can't have my bar, ain't no one going to have it," Mornn had apparently attempted to rig the gas stove to explode and destroy the bar, but only succeeded in setting himself on fire.
"Poor bastard," Kara mused, skipping forward to the next few headlines. Nothing else was said about the Cowboy Star, other than it appearing on auction notices at least four times over the next two decades.

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Re: the Broken Star Saloon

Quinn arranged his notes around the mug of coffee the waitress of the Waffle House had placed in front of him. He had given the woman a slightly annoyed look as she served him, "I'm sure you can see I'm trying to work here." It had been a long drive in the Chevette getting to Broken Falls. He was in no mood for the pleasantries of the local populace. The waitress drew herself back a little but kept a congenial smile on her face. "Well bless your heart sugar, you just keep on what all year doing. Just gimme a holler if ya want to order somethin'. Ya know we are open all night."

Quinn gave the woman a smile that looked closer to a sneer and waved her away. He had a beginning outline of how the show should open, although as he looked around the less than crowded diner, he couldn't quite visualize his opening monologue coming from inside a greasy Waffle House in nowhere Kentucky. He needed something bigger. He pulled the thin brimmed fedora down closer to his eyes as he looked over his notes, and those the professor had sent. Indian lore... slaughter house... unsolved murder... and the unfortunate suicide of a previous owner and now it's current one. Something definately off about the place, and not just the godawful music everyone in this state seemed to keep blaring. He checked through the notes some more and then called the waitress over.

"Ya want something Sugar?" She inquired. Quinn winced a little at the accent but forced a crooked smile. "Sure thing sweetheart. Ya got any Indians around here?" he responded. She looked at him a little oddly. "You know, redskins, native Americans, teepees, bingo parlors, maybe a casino?"

"There's not many native Americans in the whole state, at least not by official records. This was Shawnee territory maybe 200 years ago. Doc Evens up at Gateway technical college knows a bunch about the early tribes, he used to date my cousin Brenda, and they had all kinds of little pottery things..."

"That's just great. Thanks." Quinn stated cutting her off.  "You know anything about the Broken Cowboy Spur where that guy died?"

The lady frowned. "Wasnt that so sad! The Kelly's were such a sweet couple. Stacy used to lead cub scouts down at the Lutheran church. Great lady. I dont know what shes going to do. They put everything they had into that place. Figure that might be why poor Tracy ended it all. So sad. They could of got help if they just adked. Folks look out for their neighbors out here."

He didn't really pay much attention to whatever she said, her lips were moving but he zoned out when she mentioned cub scouts. He didnt care, this was Nowhere USA, his video might bring the biggest tourist infusion they had ever seen damned diner should put a plaque up for him.

Tomorrow he would do a drive by on this Broken Down Cowboy or whatever the bar was called. He could get some good opening shots and take a little shaky B-roll to give it that gritty vibe. Of course the big stuff would have to be at night. He flipped on the infrared mode on his camera just to make sure it worked.

Tonight he needed sleep. The Chevette was comfortable enough with the back seat down. If he stayed in the diner parking lot he could still use their wifi. Tomorrow was gonna be a big day.

- Quinn Butterfield

Last edited by Zuzutoo (2018-02-06 06:31:50)

Re: the Broken Star Saloon

“Will you shut up and listen for a minute?” Abigail snapped into the phone at her ear. Her older brother was being his normal pain in her rear end, things he tended to do when she called him to help her gather information. He might not get out into the field, as she liked to call it, but he could never deny that he liked doing research. Except right now he was on a rant that had lasted roughly for the past thirty minutes. “I don-“  She let a frustrated sigh as she pulled into of the nearest motel, or rather the one she thought would be the cheapest as well as clean. He just was not letting up, nor was he letting her get a word in.

Abby pulled her Jeep into the parking spot nearest the office, noting the presence of only one other vehicle.  Busy night for the place it seemed. Maybe she would actually be able to get some sleep after the hours she had spent on the road. She kept her foot on the brake, shifted her phone from one ear to the other so she could slide the gearshift into park. “Drew?” But he was still going strong. Her head fell back to connect with the headrest, “LOOK!” not that he could look since they were on the phone but whatever, “I am doing it. I don’t care. If you don’t like it, you know what you can do. Hanging up now, love you.” Without waiting for a response she pulled the cell from her ear and ended the call. Andrew exactly what she had meant; he could grow a pair and come join her, if it was that big of a deal. This was an argument they had on more than one occasion.

She shoved the phone into the pocket of her jacket, grabbed the knife she kept taped under her seat and shut the engine off. Although she might tackle cases alone, that didn’t mean she was completely reckless. Meaning once she had exited and shut the door, it was locked.

Getting registered took little time, the clerk seeming less than thrilled at having had to actually work. But work he had, and had check in a Miss Stephanie Gellar into room 6a. Once in the room she tossed her bags onto the dresser, and pulled her phone out to see that she had 3 missed calls and 13 texts from her brother. There was no way she was calling him back just to listen to him rant for another hour, so she fired off a quick text to let him know she where she was staying, what room number, and that she was taking the rooms phone off the hook, which she did and tossed her cell on the bedside table.

Not only was it do not disturb time, it was also research time. At least until she got sleepy.

Re: the Broken Star Saloon

As always, by 5 in the morning Kara was up and about. Glancing briefly at her uncle passed out in his bed, she decided to just start getting ready without him. Let's see, it's probably restless spirits, so... salt, iron, and EMF detector. Yeah, I can do that. Dressing quietly in jeans and a beat-up green jacket, she snatched the car keys off the table.

Outside it was already nice weather, a gentle Southern breeze wafting through the parking lot. Heading directly for the RAV4, Kara popped the trunk open, leaning in to tug the hidden latch on the back seat. A fuzzy panel flopped backwards, displaying a bizarre assortment of weapons, gadgets, and general supplies. The EMF detector was on the right, next to a tiny cardboard box of custom shotgun shells. Ignoring the shells, she picked up the detector, turning it on briefly and nodding in satisfaction at the faint whine. The device wasn't as crude as other hunters used; Kara had modified the plastic housing from an old FM radio to fit around it, complete with shoulder strap. Slinging said strap around her shoulder, she moved a box of clothing aside to uncover a large sack of industrial-grade rock salt. Last but not least, she took out an iron crowbar and thrust it through the back of her belt.

It wasn't until she'd closed the hatch, her arms occupied with the rather heavy bag of salt, that Kara realized two things:

* There was another car parked two spaces over, and the door to the motel room in front of it was open. She wasn't alone, and it would be rather interesting to try to explain the crowbar.

* The EMF detector was still on. And abruptly letting out one of its random loud whimpers, probably from picking up the power line that ran overhead.

Shifting her grip on the bag, she fumbled at her waist, switching the detector off with a twinge of annoyance at herself for forgetting to do that earlier.

Last edited by FiftyFootAnt (2018-02-08 01:20:33)

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Re: the Broken Star Saloon

The sound of the breaks from a large semi-truck pulling into the parking lot suddenly woke Quinn from his slumbering. Startled, he quickly sat up, only to find his face colliding with the sloped rear window of the Chevette. He let out a yelp of surprise and pain as his head flopped back down to the lowered back seat bench. He grabbed his forehead and more carefully sat up shuffling himself toward the front of the car.

He had slept soundly despite his less than comfortable surroundings. The light of morning was chasing away the shadows of night. As he slowly became more aware of his surroundings, he could tell something was wrong. The Windows of the Chevette were blurred, through a thick foamy ooze. The cobwebs of his mind were quickly cleared away as his trained intellect put together his situation. He grabbed his camera and quickly unlocked the door as he stepped out into the cool Kentucky morning. His pulse quickened as he examined what had become of his car.

<This is remarkable! I am standing outside my car in the parking lot of a Waffle House restaurant in Broken Falls Kentucky. This tiny Southern town has a long history of occult activity. I am hear to expose another supernatural event, but it appears the powers of darkness knew I was coming. I am zooming in on what is a manifestation of ectoplasm enveloping the Chevette. This is no natural phenomenon, as you can see much of the ectoplasm has formed in a series of profane words, a hallmark of demonic activity. Now look at this... Y..a...n..k..ee. Yankee. Kentucky was the location of several prominent battles in the Civil War. Looks like some demonic rebel sonuvabitch wants to scare me off. Well listen up you undead inbred bastard! Quinn Butterfield is in town! Thats right! Meet me out at the old Cowboy Chaps Bar tonight you spectral redneck! We'll see who gets scared off!

That's right folks. I dropped the gauntlet. It's High Noon against the spirit world tonight! On Ghost Provokers! We aint scared! Are you?!>

As Quinn hit the red button on the camera to stop shooting he took note of a small crowd that had come out from the Waffle House to watch the spectacle. Quinn raised his arms up. "That's right! You saw it here first! Undead Showdown! GhostProvokers.com!"

He wasn't quite sure what the crowd was calling back at him. Silly country yokels didn't see the truth. He walked around to the front of the Chevette, climbing in, starting the engines and letting the wipers take the ectoplasm off the windshield. The spirit world was on alert. This was going to be an epic night. The Chevette pulled out on the road and started towards the Broken Star bar.

The Waitress from the restaurant watched the little car head out onto the highway. She shook her head. "Damned Youtube. That boy was touched. Zachariah, tell the Sheriff he don't need to come by. Oh and get those cans of shaving cream in the trash you idjiot."

-Quinn Butterfield

Re: the Broken Star Saloon

Daniel Taylor wrote:

Dolvomar was reading a newspaper by an open fire at a hotel in Kentucky. He was currently on a business trip and by a business trip, he was here to make a deal with one of the locals. Somebody had buried a box in the middle of some crossroads in the countryside and he was the one that was tasked to collect. Now at the hotel, Dolvomar cut an end off and lit up a cigar before lighting it and carried on reading his paper.

"This world is so boring..." Dolvomar muttered under his breath before smoking the cigar, he left the smoke in his mouth a few seconds to taste the flavour and then let it out as a smoke ring.

"E-Excuse me, sir. You are not allowed to smoke in here." A timid voice called out from beside him.

"Hmm?" Dolvomar looked at the person who called him, he smiled as soon as he saw the young hostess.

"Go away, I'm busy." He replied before going back to his paper. An article caught his attention. "Hmm, some guy committed suicide at a bar. Looks like a new friend has joined us down below then." He muttered under his breath so nobody could hear him.

Just as he turned the page of the newspaper, a male walked into the hotel, he was wearing a denim jacket and a cowboy hat and had a grey moustache. Dolvomar took out a photograph from his inside jacket pocket. "That's the guy." He said as he folded the paper and placed it on the table.

"S-sir... Please put out your cigar." The timid voice called out again, it was very quiet and not many people in the hotel could hear her.

Dolvomar stood up from his seat and made his way over to his target, as he passed the hostess he flicked her on the forehead with his middle finger. "Be quiet." The girl put both hands to her forehead and walked off to get a manager, tears formed in her eyes.

Dolvomar casually sat beside his target at the bar, he placed his cane so it leant next to the bar and gave the guy a smile "Hello there."

The man with the cowboy hat turned to Dolvomar and looked him up and down. "Not interested"

"Not interested in what?" Dolvomar asked, with a smile still on his face.

"Look, I ain't one of those queer folk. Clear off." The man was getting irate, "My friends keep sending you folk over as a joke, don't get any ideas buddy, I'm not gay."

"Oho, that's not what your moustache says. Anyway, I digress that's not why I am here." Dolvomar laughed and leaned closer. He lowered his voice so that the guy could only hear him. "You summoned me when you buried that box... You want a deal right? Tell me what you want and I'll make it happen."

"Is this some kind of joke? Did Gary put you up to this? We were drunk with some girls in the middle of nowhere and some girl said that if we did this we can get some sort of wish or some bullshit. We didn't believe her, as it is just a crock of horse shit. We decided to do it anyway - for fun and wanted to just get laid. Nothing happened for the past 3 days and we decided it was just some stupid game and forgot about it..."

"Ah sorry, I was late doing other stuff... Just tell me what you want." Dolvomar said, "Best case scenario, you'll get what you want and worst case is nothing will happen."

Last edited by Daniel Taylor (2018-02-10 23:46:48)

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Re: the Broken Star Saloon

Response to Kara

It had been another one of those nights where Abby had passed out for a few short hours stretched out on the bed with her laptop having slid off her lap. She yawned, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and attempted to rub out the crick that had settled into her neck. Her cell was tossed there beside her, with forty percent battery, three missed calls, and a whole string of texts that she wasn’t about to count. Then she noticed the time, bright and early. Abby tossed the phone back down and swung her legs over the side of the bed. There wasn’t any light coming through the curtains, at least not any natural light so the whole bright concept was really just…not. Rising, she dug out the charger for her phone, plugging it in before heading to the shower. As early as it was, there was no use in trying to go back to sleep.

Once she had showered and dressed she tossed what she could back into her Jeep, left her door open and sat herself down at the tiny table. There was work to be finished since she had passed out in the middle of doing it the night before. Abby was well into re-reading one of the articles about the place when a sound drew her attention. It hadn’t been just any old sound, either; it was one she was more than familiar with, that of an EMF detector.

Closing her laptop she rose, and paused just outside her open door. There was a girl, couldn’t be much older than 16-17, if even that. As she got older it was harder and harder to judge just how old these younger kids were. But what really struck out, besides the age, was the bag she seemed to be struggling with…and the crowbar Abby could see peeking out from around the girl’s small frame. “That’s a mighty heavy looking bag you got there.”

Abigail

Re: the Broken Star Saloon

Kara froze at hearing the voice, and slowly rotated to face the woman, mind racing. "Hi! It's, um, it's for.... a giant box of french fries," she finished lamely, realizing just how inane the excuse sounded. In hindsight it might have been a good idea to come up with a reason for carting around massive amounts of salt during the summer, in an area that probably saw an annual average of 0.5" of snow a year. "I'm-" what was our cover "Eleanor." She proffered her free hand, tightening her grip on the salt to avoid dropping it. "Nice to have a new neighbor!" You idiot, this is a motel. "Well, motel neighbor, that's like a meighbor.... I'm going to stop talking now."

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Re: the Broken Star Saloon

"Sure it is." The brunette shifted, propping herself against the door frame with a shoulder, "Margaritas would make more sense, like say...for a frat party." Abby was concerned about the fact that this young girl was carrying such a larger bag of salt. In her world there was only one need for any where near that amount of salt. Actually, she had never carried that much around with her period. Her eyebrows rose and the girl continued to ramble, "Eleanor, huh? Nice name." yet, she didn't offer hers, "Meighbors? I like it. But I don't plan on staying long."

"So what's the salt really for?"

Abby

Re: the Broken Star Saloon

"Um," was as far as Kara got before the door to the room opened and David walked out, already digging a cigarette out as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes.

He slowed to a stop as he saw the woman in the doorway and his niece carrying the salt around, and his face immediately tightened. Something about her seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it. "Take the bag inside, Eleanor. You can put it by the mini-fridge." To the woman watching them: "Sorry if my daughter woke you up, ma'am, she's a bit of an early bird. Probably comes from not having to have done any of the driving." Deciding to go for the gold, he pressed on. "By any chance, can you point us to the 'Broken Star Saloon'?"

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Re: the Broken Star Saloon

There was really know reason for the girl to be carrying around a big bag of salt. Sure, Abby played it off, mentioned Margaritas, but truly, it was nothing but words. Nonsense. Just like the word meighbors. Abby quirked a dark brow at the man. "Ummm." She pushed herself away from the door and took a few steps outside, the question not really surprising her as much as it should. "Well, yeah." she smiled, "It's about five miles down route 15." Not, really, but hey...she didn't need anyone stepping on her toes, and the girl, didn't need to be anywhere near the places if it was in fact haunted. "think there's a waffle houses on the way too, get miss early bird some breakfast."

Re: the Broken Star Saloon

Snapping his lighter, David lit the cigarette he'd almost forgotten was still in his hand. "Well, my thanks for the tip, some good waffles might be just the thing after that drive. You can read as much as you like on the internet, but you can't beat a personal recommendation for accuracy." He got a good puff in, frowning slightly as something at the back of his mind started bothering him. Where have I seen her face before... I know I have. She seemed familiar, like he'd seen a picture of her before or something.
The feeling bothered him. David could count the number of people he knew without running out of fingers, and the same could be said for them. "I take it you live around here?" he asked conversationally, hoping she'd casually mention that she was one of those country music stars or something.

Inside the room Kara had just finished stashing the salt under the bed when she heard the woman's reply to her uncle. "That can't be..." The EMF reader hanging at her hip forgotten, she sat on the bed and pulled her laptop over. Sure enough, Google Maps was still open. 5 miles down Rt. 15? That'd send us in completely the wrong way! With the instinctual cunning of youth, she immediately leaped to the obvious and solid conclusion. That poor woman must be terrible at directions. I bet she gets lost a lot.

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